


of bread and hole-digging (everything's pretty ok after the apocalypse)

by SkellyMyDude



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bread, Gen, In a sense, M/M, Slice of Life, and nighttime, and rain, books are mentioned, casual thoughts about the day, ducks but like only once, everythings pretty chill honestly, its not really a plot point in this though, just some good ol thoughts about bread, lazy people i guess, mention of hole-digging, no beta we die like, nothing big happens though, pity the gavotte is out of style now, the relationship is implied but yknow, think maybe, think uh, uh, yall can decide for yourself how they feel about each other!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 18:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkellyMyDude/pseuds/SkellyMyDude
Summary: And now Aziraphale was walking along the street towards the park with a delicious pain au chocolat in one hand and three more in a paper bag swinging in the other. (He was determined to get Crowley to try at least a bite, although he wouldn’t mind terribly bad if the demon didn’t want any more of said treat past said bite, and gave him the rest. They were awfully good, you see.)





	of bread and hole-digging (everything's pretty ok after the apocalypse)

It was a lovely day to be on earth, Aziraphale thought.

There had been rain the night before (a wonderful time for rain really. Perfect background noise for reading), and now only a few stray clouds floated along in the sky, casting a pleasant shade. The ground was slightly damp, with puddles in a few spots that weren’t too much of a bother to get around, and the rest had evaporated away with the morning sun. There didn’t seem to be as much people out today either. Highly preferable to the other option of. Well--more people.

Also, there was food! Bread, if one wanted to be specific. Pain au chocolat, if one wanted to be really specific, and also maybe a pain in another specific persons arse. (That specific person may very well be sitting on their bed, in their bedroom, typing something on their laptop and vaguely cursing themselves out for the choice of over-specificity and also grammar).

A nice bakery had opened up only a few streets away from the bookstore, and Aziraphale had heard some delightful things about its chocolate-and-bread delights from a…less delightful customer. Said customer had cursed him out upon finding out that ‘no, Mx, I’m afraid that book is a first edition that I am rather fond of, there’s a reason it’s here in the back with me, now please if you would be so kind as to put it down and move to the front that’d be—’ and then they had promptly left, shouting some less-than-savoury phrases behind themselves. He wouldn’t let that affect his food eating decisions though. Never judge a book by its cover, never judge a bakery by the person who recommended it and all that.

And now Aziraphale was walking along the street towards the park with a delicious pain au chocolat in one hand and three more in a paper bag swinging in the other. (He was determined to get Crowley to try at least a bite, although he wouldn’t mind terribly bad if the demon didn’t want any more of said treat past said bite, and gave him the rest. They were awfully good, you see.)

He had even bought a nice baguette for the ducks—well. Half of it was for the ducks. The other half was for home.

It technically wasn’t Greed if one planned to do Good Things with the item at hand, like feed ducks. And anyway, if it was greed that was meant to do him in, his books should have pushed him over that metaphorical edge centuries ago. A shiver raced up and down Aziraphale’s spine, and the day was…a little less lovely. Just for a second.

There was worse an angel could do than enjoy some books or bread. 

(The Arrangement was just barely passable as a Neutral Act, and, well. He had nearly died because of the whole Armageddon-not-happening thing.)

(Thank…something. Humanity? Thank Humanity for Agnes Nutter, Witch, and her writing things down.)

Aziraphale was stilled for a moment, bread heavy in his hands, before he twisted his face up a little strangely and took a bite of his pain au chocolat. No use dwelling on things like that, not right now.

He continued walking and let himself be distracted by the sweetness of the food before looking up from his feet and seeing the flash of light reflecting on sunglasses. (His mind skipped over the reasonable thought of the irony in sunlight reflecting off sunglasses into someone else’s eyes, honestly how is that useful for anyone else—and straight to)

“Crowley, there you are!”

***

It was a lousy day to be on earth, Crowley thought.

It had rained in the night, and while the night is a fantastic time for rain it is considerably less fantastic when one is out in a field trying to help the Antichrist, Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness (otherwise known Adam,) to dig a hole. He didn’t ask why Adam was digging a hole, as one usually does not ask why someone is digging a hole in the middle of a field in the middle of the night for no obvious reason. Especially when said someone has so many titles, and helped one out of a right old bother (otherwise known as Armageddon, or the end of the world) recently.

For those same reasons, he didn’t ask why on earth (they still had one of those) the two of them didn’t just miracle the hole up, or majick it, or whatever you called what Adam could do.

So Crowley had been stuck in the rain digging a bloody hole in a bloody field at who-even-cares-when in the morning, instead of sleeping the night away like most living beings on this side of the hemisphere. Honestly.

And now he was tired, and while he could miracle away the tiredness from his corporation, he could not miracle away the tiredness in his mind. Mental tiredness. It was awful, and now he had to go to the park, and his Bentley wasn’t His Bentley anymore (what with it being burned up and all that one time) so he had to walk through all those people, and he was just so _tired_ , damn it Adam!

Well, at least he was going to see Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was Nice, as you’d expect from an angel, but also _nice_ , as you’d expect from Aziraphale. His own brand of nice, the kind that let them make the Arrangement,  and let him have his books, and let Crowley talk with him, sometimes. (A lot of times.)

Aziraphale was nice, and so Crowley was looking forward to seeing him, and hoping just a little bit that he, what with his being nice and all, would help make Crowley’s day turn from ‘lousy’ to ‘nice’. Just a little. Maybe even a tiny bit more than a little.

For now though, it was a lousy day. He was getting a vague hint of a headache, and while he could miracle it away, he couldn’t really bother right then. The pain was starting to condense just behind his left eye.

Maybe if he told Aziraphale when he saw the angel he’d…heal him? No, that thought was stupid, of course he would. With a slight frown (and then a wince because _wow_ that did not help things at _all_ ,) Crowley pushed past a few people that weren’t really in his way and walked into the park. Thankfully his sunglasses did their job and blocked out some of the light, so it was less painful to look at the white-grey of the cement below his feet. That headache was getting bad quick.

Crowley still didn’t do anything about it. Instead, he turned and sat down on a bench near a stationary ice-cream truck (food trucks were one of the Neutral creations, a collaboration on both Aziraphale and Crowley’s part. The wait time, hygiene and often inconsistent placement could be awful, but the food itself was just as often amazing, or at the very least good for the cost.)

Crowley fiddled with his sleeve a bit, caught himself, then adjusted his glasses, then checked his watch. He did all of these things very discretely and casually, and ignored the minor contradiction in the use of those two words together.

Aziraphale wasn’t here yet which, considering it was still ten minutes earlier than their usual meeting time, was unsurprising. Being fashionably early was a thing, yknow. (it wasn’t, not in the way Crowley was pretending it was.)

He laughed to himself a little. Perhaps Aziraphale was practicing the gavotte or something, angel dancing on the head of a pin and all.

Crowley’s head wasn’t quite on straight, what with the whole tired-and-also-headache thing.

There was a good joke to be made there, but Crowley didn’t make it for number of reasons, one of those reasons being ‘there is no one around to tell the joke to.’

“Crowley, there you are!”

Oh look, a person.

Crowley turned a bit, and waved, then redirected his hand to his sunglasses and pretended he was simply adjusting them the whole time. They wouldn’t actually slip while he was wearing them, Crowley knew that. Aziraphale knew that too, but didn’t comment on the obvious slip up with anything except a grin.

He held out the paper bag with the pain au chocolat in it and shook it a bit, smiling.

“Hello, my dear, I just got the most delightful pain au chocolat from a new bakery today, would you like one?”

Crowley grinned and took one out of the bag. It really was delicious. His headache started to fade away by itself, which was quite good as well.

They stood in the park and fed the ducks, Crowley managing to sink a few before Aziraphale miracled them right, and Crowley’s day got a little bit more nice.

(A lot nice, really, if Crowley was being perfectly honest)

(But why would a demon be that?)

**Author's Note:**

> i started this at ten thirty at night, finished it at twelve thirty, and now i desperately want pain au chocolat. help.  
> i also happen to have had the exact headache i described crowley having. no fun, headaches. dastardly things.


End file.
